Tag Archives: blogging

I’ve been thinking a lot lately. That’s the kind of thing that happens while you sit at your desk, knitting until your fingers and wrists go numb, watching millions of images load ever so slowly on your dino-dial-ups for Pintrest. There’s been topics fluttering in my mind, words to mash out on this blank screen… but knitting doesn’t work well with typing. You loose your count and your train of thought all at one time. Trust me.

And it’s hard to work on this, when you need to work on that. Priorities wrestle with wants. Needs fling mud at desires. Options and choices wrestle in the jello pit that once was a functional brain. Everything fights you, time, budgets, noises, small people wanting things.

It’s like the first time I looked into selling handmade goods on Etsy, they say, “Choose one medium”. Choose one. Like that’s possible for me. I can knit, crochet, draw, paint, sew, quill, carve, stamp, shape… not that I have valuable skills in every form, but choosing one is like asking me if I want to keep my right or my left leg… um, all please?

I want to do it all, because what if I choose the wrong one? My hobby is hobbies. But I want one to be mine. Or at least three. Maybe four. My hard limit is at nine, honestly.

And somehow this all links back to writing. What if. I mean really, what if? What if while I’m busy training dogs (or not so busy, thank you economy), and knitting my fingers off to pay the bills, supporting my writer friends, promoting them, blogging about nothing, chasing kids, trying to make a garden/homestead on a rock bed, pretending I know how to sing for the fake band… What if, deep in my computer’s files, laying in wait, is the next big thing. And in my interview with Ellen (because Oprah erks me to no end) she asks how long it took me to write this book, that instantly sold out, and the movie rights were bought before it was even published… I have to say, twenty years. And I have to admit that for 19 of those years it was sitting there in my computer’s memory, because I was too friggen scared/hard on myself to even try. And she’s going to laugh and call me cute, while holding up one of my washcloths and make some cute joke about loving Jesus and drinking beer.

Okay so I doubt that’s how anything would unfold. But what if?

But where’s the time? And where the frick, is the confidence? Because all I know is that them washcloths will not make themselves. And sitting here, typing about what if’s does not pay the bills.

There’s some very good benefits to giving up on the whole “real writing” deal.

Like stats, I can finally give up on checking the dang stats every time I publish a new post here. Sure I still look, but it’s easier to shrug them off now. Also, it’s a tad bit easier to pull something out of nothing for NaBloPoMo, I’ve lost the worry over “What will Blogher want to see?” and “What will they feature, or better yet Syndicate?” And there’s the daunting, “Oh my gawd, people will see that post and think I’m crazy for even thinking I could be a writer!” Lost that one too.

I needed a huge dose of “I don’t care” a very long time ago. Because I always cared, always, and I cared too much.

Which is a confusing mix of inner voices, because all the time when I was striving for this goal or that, letting my feelings get tied into who did what, and why not me… the whole time I was battling whether or not any of it was even the path for me. Mental punishment for both trying and for not trying hard enough.

Now I get to sick back and laugh at it all. And it feels good. I don’t have to care anymore. I can just enjoy putting words out into the interwebs… or not.

Granted, quitting something before you even really step out and try it on, probably isn’t the best “Go me” moment. Because when you get down to it, blogging and writing, are a whole heap of sameness, yet couldn’t be further apart. There’s such safety hiding behind little blurbs of thoughts, but writing, as in sending your works out to someone specifically, waiting for them, hoping they choose you… yeah.

Maybe one day I won’t be able to hold back those little voices in my head who want to walk down the aisle of a bookstore and see my name sitting on the shelf. But for now, I’m happy to be free from them.

When I sat down to write out my annual 101 things in 365 days list (posted on my other blog) somehow my fingers cranked out, “Tackle another NaBloPoMo”. I obviously wasn’t thinking, and I’m sure I was just trying to fill in spaces on the list, and probably, just probably I was suffering through another moment of insanity fueled by 70* weather surrounded by snowy days.

I don’t have time for this. Every free minute I have should be filled with knitting, and crocheting, and making soaps and such. Because momma needs a new car that doesn’t die every time it rains.

And too, I have a shiny new blog for the business to work on, and I need to be promoting that, and being all business like, and a garden, and animals, and a kitchen remodel that’s been halfway done for months now…

Let’s not forget the whole, I know better than to do NaBloPoMo in February, I should pick a short month, and I should definitely plan ahead, with scheduled ideas, with some kind of plan…

But. It. Is. On. That. Damn. List.

And I want to slay that list this year. And why not get to it right now.

And since I gave up on any sort of actual writing, aren’t I not free to write whole blog post about nothing?!

Insanity. It’s what this friggen cold weather peppered with tornadoes does to me.

It’s been busy around here for sure. Between family drama, sickness and injuries, the loss of favorite pets, starting a new business, and so on and so on… it’s hard to prioritize blogging. And even harder to follow-up on my friends’ latest writings.

And then, then there is the confession.

I think, I gave up.

Or maybe it is that I am still giving up, or maybe I’m getting ready to give up, and that’s why I feel compelled to write about it. Just one last time. Not that I’m looking for someone to magically pull me back into that other realm, because the time still isn’t there… but just to keep on with the honesty I prefer to keep in here.

So I don’t know what happened. There was some slippery slope, or too many battle wounds… or something. I was like the little train that could, puffing along, thinking I was on track, beating back the negativity… and then… Then the track was cracked by a lack of progress. I couldn’t meet my own goals to save my life. Then the repairable track met the tornado of a pretty bad critique. Then the shambles that were left met another bad critique storm, and then another.

Oh I tried to stay strong and grab onto the sides and pull myself back up. But it just all felt like there was nothing there to grab a hold of. There was no concrete success to put a foot on, there were no met goals to reach for. All that seemed to be there were countless hours wasted, eaten alive by my own self doubt.

What did 50+ followers mean to the stack of bills? Nada. What did one featured post mean to the family at dinner time? Nothing. What did hours of imagining factious plots do for the betterment of anything? Not much. And maybe that’s all my fault. Maybe I just never had the dedication. Maybe I didn’t work hard enough, or want it bad enough. Either way I couldn’t/can’t produce enough evidence to continue down that path.

Yes, yes, I know, whoa, holy heaps of negativity. Unusual for me to do here.

And my bitterness isn’t towards anyone. I don’t want those who have potential to be turned off by what I’m sharing. This is only in my case, all though I’m sure I’m not alone.

I asked once, what your final straw would be, where you would actually turn your back on a dream. And I guess I had found my final line. When your confidence breaks so far that you can no longer drag yourself down that path. When you actually smirk, and twist a compliment, and you get upset. When, for the most part, the words just stop flowing. When you just can’t.

In closing, I thank all of you for all of your support. I thank you for everything you have done for me, and with me. I’ll still be floating around this interwebs world. I’ll still be randomly posting here when the mood strikes. I’ll try to one day get back to visiting your blogs. This isn’t meant to be a big old begging for compliments, or anything of the like. Like I said, I believe in being as honest as possible here, and this is real life folks, unedited, and with a pot of coffee, or two.

Monday always seems to need a brand spanking new post. And this is problematic for me. I don’t do interwebs on the weekend, not unless I’m expecting an email sending me the next chapter for a book someone is being cruel enough to only let me see bits and pieces at a time! But I digress. Monday morning has me drinking tons of coffee and trying to catch up with everyone and everything… while trying to come up with a post. Because I have to.

Even when I have nothing to say.

And my husband would crack up at the thought of me having nothing to say. Because apparently when you have a cold and spend all weekend in the sun building a 5 million piece swing set, and practicing Pat Benatar songs for the fake band… you WILL loose your voice, but not your sniffles. And just so you know, when one has a bad sneeze inducing cold, one should always put a lid on your adult beverage orrrrr your garage floor will get sticky and you will run out of said beverages.

But like I said, I really have nothing to write. Nada.

Which seems to be a problem lately for me. Because I don’t want to talk about writing or editing. Or of balance and schedules, or things that make you want to invest in Kleenex. And I absolutely detest writing about nothing.

I want to blame the editing and the excitement of ideas floating in my head eating up my blogging thoughts. I also want to blame my right ear that is so clogged it sounds like I have half of my head stuck in a sea shell. I’d also like to blame the teething, non napping, terrible two’s toddler who thinks mommy enjoys scrubbing milk off of the floor.

Yet blaming does not inspire. It’s just the way things are. The brain gets clogged and life gets busy. There are songs to sing and slides to build. And the point of writing is WRITING. Even if it’s not all fancy, even if it won’t win awards or get me a check in the mail. Even if it’s all been written before.

Have you ever found yourself having one of those moments, where there is so much going on at one time, you have so much to do, so much that you want to do, that you’re finding yourself just standing there? No? Just me?

It’s much like my ideas got on their pretty white horses and rounded me up to the cliff’s edge. My toes are on the edge to taking this stuff seriously, my ideas are waiting for me to jump… and I sit down to have a picnic lunch and admire the view. My ideas are not very happy with me.

It’s like singing (for me at least), when we’re having fun and screwing off with the mics I’m louder more confident, having fun. But when we’re really practicing… oy. And then my husband is asking, “What the hell, you hit that perfectly an hour ago when you were playing with the kids!?!” I do better when it doesn’t matter.

But things are starting to matter. And I need to take everything to the next level… and I’m frozen in place.

And I really am dreaming of a slave driver to show up at my computer, barking out orders at me. Demanding deadlines and topics, shutting out weak ideas and insisting on only the best. Not allowing me to freeze in place…

So tell me something brilliant would ya?

I’m looking for ideas for the blog, suggestions, tips. Marketing. Social platforms. What am I doing wrong… and what am I doing right?

Is it time to upgrade and put an investment into this little slice of the webs? (Our budget is always tight, so yeah I freak on just spending the 18 bucks to remove the wordpress from my name) Or should the novel be my only concern?

Or maybe you have a whole freakin post you could write on this whole subject… wanna do a guest post?

Tell me something!

You can leave your thoughts in the comments or email me directly at barefootcoffeegirl (at) gmail (dot) com.

It’s funny how the interwebs works. One day your blog is sitting there, petting all of its wee little interweb dust bunnies, watching them multiply and then the next day your spam box is standing room only and your reading list and need-to-reply-to list is longer than the Mississippi.

Not that I’m complaining. It’s nice to open things up and think, whoaaa. It’s just not so nice that it ALL happens when I’m 100% dedicated to doing other things. Because unintentionally I’m going to miss something, someone and then I’m gonna feel all guilty months later and ruin probably what was going to be the best friendship ‘evah.

So here’s the deal, my readers ROCK! Like rock it in leather pants, and tie-dyed hair ROCK. And I love them all. Even my newest fan Glerf. (long story) But I can’t possibly go through all the chain awards and games right now (okay so maybe if I wasn’t typing this long arsed thing), and link 15 people here and there EVEN THOUGH I DO WANT TO PUT ALL OF YOU IN SPOTLIGHTS! And I do appreciate the time you all have spent highlighting me! ❤ ❤ ❤ So do me a favor… go check out my blogroll (that I’m currently still adding to, so keep checking back) visit everyone on it and share some love. Seriously, comments are like skittles, booze, and a good tune on a gloomy day. If you’re not listed, please let me know because either I’m still in the process of getting to you orrrrrrrr I don’t have your correct link!

With that said, I do happen to love me a little bit of Q&A, so even though I’m not gonna follow the rules with tags and what nots, I have to answer the questions Beckey over at My Really Real Reality tagged me in:

What is your favorite book? There’s one book I’ve had since I was in grade school. I can’t part with it, even though I’ve had it since I was like 9, and I haven’t read it since. Basically you had this young girl with a tough as nails father, and they lived out in the country (which was always my dream) and she found a mustang that her father had trapped to save his crops. Long story short her and the mustang fell in love, and her father finds out. The ending breaks my heart and the book started my obsession with reading.

Favorite sweet treat? Hrrrmmm, I can’t pick just one. But I love things with dark chocolate or cinnamon and sugar. I dislike complicated concoctions and anything with coconut.

Who would play you in the movie version of your life? Eeek, I’m not so sure I’d want my life to be a movie. But I’m going to go with Angelina Jolie. Sure we don’t have anything in common besides both of us having tattoos, but at least she’d play me straight, and demand to keep the movie real and un-hollywood. She drives me crazy as a person, but she’s damn good at being a character. (and yes my actress would need some wicked talent to play me *snort*)

What was your favorite subject to study in school? In Highschool I’d say Art, Religion and Creative Writing. (Yes I see it says SUBJECT, in the singular) In college it was defiantly Political Sciences.

What are you grateful for everyday? Without writing a novel: my husband whom I don’t deserve, the minions, being able to create, faith, life, time, the little wisdom I do have, and getting another day. I truly don’t deserve any of it.

Do you still have your tonsils? Hell yeah. I don’t do surgery.

If you were a crayon, what color would you be? Macaroni and Cheese. Honest to gawd. It’s the perfect shade of orange for every coloring book. Andddd I like to be cryptic like that.

Who do you miss the most? My nan. (aka my grandmother) She taught me how to do five hundred things at once and get lost in creative messes. She created my fire, or at least soaked it in lighter fluid for YEARS.

If you could be any fictional character, who would you chose? Eh, I’d pass on the offer. Every character at some point has to go through such extremes. Even cinderella is going to need years of therapy and drugs for living in ashes for half her life. I’ll stay right here where I already have half a grip on my dysfunctions thank you very much.

What is your favorite sound? Hahahahahahahahahahaha. No sounds would be my favorite sound! A 6-year-old, a 21 month old, 3 dogs, 7 chickens, a goat, a husband, a band, 2 buggies and two cats… this momma likes the quiet.

When was the last time you were nervous? Every dang day. Probably once an hour, at least. If my children aren’t busy trying to defy the laws of gravity, it’s the sharing of thoughts and words with the public interwebs, and if it’s not that it’s the whole something is always happening around here.

And the real rules go something along the lines of sharing unknown things, tagging people and asking new questions, if you really want to follow along. But I say, for the heck of breaking rules, I wanna hear your answers right here to the same questions. I’m such a renegade. 😉

Funny things about breakthroughs, they seem brilliant in the moment as they’re spawning, but the next morning they tend to dim and tarnish. This is my attempt to stop that.

It was one of those self condemning moments, where I was fighting with myself over my lack of confidence in my wip, and how I’d rather start a new project, one I could feel better, one I could fall in love with, but why can’t I finish the first one… when it hit me, make yourself fall in love with this one. Give it what your heart is missing in it. Duh.

And then came the cast iron pan over the head… make yourself do it. Do IT. Seems simple enough, unless you’re raising young children, five million animals, a garden on a rocky ridge, landscaping and trying to remodel your home, and, and, and…

I keep waiting for the right time, but truth is, there will never be a right time. And I need this done for me. Forget showing anyone else, I need to show myself. I need the proof. ME.

I need to do this, before my inner voice wins and says I can’t do it at all. And I can’t look to others to lean on. So here we go, or here I go, and here it goes.

One month is what I’m giving myself. Unreasonable? Probably. One month to finish this round of edits, and hopefully get some critiques. I will be writing my queries in July… no matter what. Even if my inner voice is screaming at me to quit. This is it.

And I’m not so sure how I will be able to keep up with the blogging and everything else during this time, but I can’t worry about that, not too much. Okay so I’ll probably be worrying a lot about it all.

Do you have a goal you’ve been avoiding that you want to crack down on?

Do you have tips, hints and advice that might help me or others make this happen?

Do you need my address so you can send me lots of encouragement, chocolate and coffee? (I need pretty office stuffs too, maybe some flower and new tunes)

Do you want to guest blog for me so don’t have to neglect this space for too long?

I’ve been passing up the chain awards lately. At first they were all awesome and exciting, and then they became redundant and awkward. These things really float through the webs faster than the speed of light, and then they start to lose their specialness. They become insincere all too quickly, like tarnished glitter.

But sometimes we need to stop for a minute and just get down with our sappy sides. Sometimes we need to stop the day-to-day, the ideas, the to-do list and take a moment to thank those who really have made an impact, who have been there in the good, the bad, the ugly and the late night booze influenced chat messages.

Take for instance, Casey at Navigating Cyberloss, who passed on the award of One Lovely Blog to me. Her blog is dedicated to nothing more than being that ever there shoulder to lean on. Do yourself a favor and go there now, her writings are beautiful, deep and heartfelt. She’s a person you need to know, 100% genuine and open. She inspires me daily.

unfortunately there’s always the rules with these things, and people always demand 7 things about me, which for me is much like pulling teeth. I’m pulling teeth for you all, feel special.

I am a self-taught knitter and crocheter. My grandmother tried to teach me when I was young and too stupid to appreciate the skills. I decided to learn the skills shortly after my first child was born for no real reason other than I wanted a new afghan. Two books later and bundles of yarn I can almost nail most of the basic and advanced skills… but I have yet to finish that afghan…

I have a secret desire to become a marathon runner. I’m also too lazy to pursue it. I blame it on having a wee one, and no place to run with a stroller.

I have two tattoos on my lower back. Both tribal, black ink only. One is a sun, with script for “Life” in the center, the other a horse.

I have four completely written, unedited books from NaNoWriMo, all urban fictions. And I keep telling myself I’ll dust them all back off… one of these days, maybe.

I am not a brave individual. I hate taking risks, and detest things I can’t control.

I still love legos.

My blog gives me daily conflict of wether to keep going with it or not… I am my own worst critic.

And now for the hugging:

Thanks (and this award) goes out to…

The Valentine 4 (I’m still trying to figure out how to steal her writing skills)

Sunbonnet Smart, who the world is most defiantly a better place because of her love for everyone she meets!

I could, and should add about 50 more people to the list of thanks. But getting all these links together and working took half a pot of coffee and over an hour. My dino-interwebs are about to die. Truly this blog would have died months ago without all of you! Thank You for everything!